Frère An­toine : une vi­sion du sculp­teur


La plu­part de ses oeuvres font par­tie de col­lec­tions pu­bliques et pri­vées et sont ex­po­sées dans des édi­fices gou­ver­ne­men­taux ain­si que dans des parcs, des uni­ver­si­tés, des écoles et des églises. En 1988, le gou­ver­ne­ment du Ca­na­da fait ap­pel à lui pour sculp­ter En 2010, le Co­mi­té du fonds com­mé­mo­ra­tif du mé­mo­rial des Oblats, lo­gé à l’Ins­ti­tut pour le à M. Mozd­zens­ki une sta­tue gran­deur na­ture en bronze du frère An­toine. Les pa­rents du sculp­teur l’ame­naient, dès son en­fance, à la tombe du frère ins­pi­rait les Oblats dans leur tra­vail d’édu­ca­teur dans le col­lège du­rant ses 69 pre­mières an­nées d’exis­tence.

Par Do­lo­rès Ca­drin Time pas­sed, years pas­sed, and I found that there was so­me­thing in me that wan­ted to save im­por­tant things in the world from di­sap­pea­ring. This is the na­ture and task of art. I am an ar­tist and one of my spe­cial­ties is the por­trayal of per­sons, the me­mo­ry of whom would be kept fo­re­ver in mind by those works of art. Bro­ther An­tho­ny kept reap­pea­ring in my life. In the 1980’s the Ca­tho­lic School Board in Ed­mon­ton wan­ted an art­work for a new school in Mill­woods na­med École Frère An­toine. “Any sub­ject” they said, “can be abs­tract” they said. Well the on­ly thing for me was the sto­ry of Bro­ther An­tho­ny, so the re­sul­ting art­work was a nar­ra­tion of his life, in the form of a 20 foot long woo­den re­lief carving. Once in a while I vi­sit the school and give talks to the chil­dren who seem ama­zed by the links that can be gi­ven them to ano­ther time and ano­ther reality. Twen­ty years pass, two mem­bers of the Po­lish com­mu­ni­ty, Jan Pierz­cha­j­to and An­dy Ku­bi­cki contact me and say that they think it is time for a life-size sculp­ture of An­to­ni Ko­walc­zyk to be erec­ted at the Col­lege Saint-Jean, to per­ma­nent­ly si­gnal who he was, what the Oblates did, and how the French com­mu­ni­ty laid foun­da­tions. Then ten years pass, Jan and An­dy show up again “we have the seed mo­ney”, they say. Since the 1950’s Bro­ther An­tho­ny has re-ap­pea­red in my life over and over again. The so ma­ny strands that link him, Mé­tis his­to­ry, the French com­mu­ni­ty, the Po­lish com­mu­ni­ty, my fa­mi­ly, to me, have come to a re­so­lu­tion. They form a bittersweet web of nostalgia and sa­tis­fac­tion. Gone is the mu­seum at the Mis­sion, gone are the log-built Mé­tis vil­lages of my child­hood, gone are the convents, or­pha­nages, hos­pi­tals, mis­sions and mo­nas­te­ries, gone are the el­der­ly Cree and Sto­ney who spoke French, gone is my Fa­ther who conver­sed with them. I am hap­py to ce­le­brate in bronze Bro­ther An­tho­ny and help make live fo­re­ver eve­ry­thing that can be un­ders­tood through him.

Ma­done et En­fant.

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